Julian & Lia

by Maria Monroe

  I get out of bed and open it a crack, keeping the chain lock in place. I can see him through the opening as he runs a hand through his hair. His eyes are glaring at me, so green and dark. "What the fuck is going on?"

  "Why are you so mad at me?"

  "Because you can't just leave a bar when you're there with people. It's rude, and we were worried."

  "I'm sorry. I just needed some fresh air."

  "So you could have told me you were leaving. I would have come with you."

  "I just need to be alone."

  He's quiet for a few minutes. "Can you please open the door, Lia? I don't want to talk like this." He glances up and down the hallway as if looking to see if anyone's listening.

  "Why? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?" I don't mean for those bitter words to come out, but they do, and I can't take them back.

  "What the hell are you talking about?" He looks genuinely confused.

  "Nothing," I mutter. "Just forget it. I'm just having an off night, OK? I just want to go to bed."

  "I don't like this, Lia."

  "Sorry." I hold my breath waiting for what he says next, but instead he walks away. Through the cracked door, I see him stalk down the hallway. My heart sinks, but I can't call him back. I want to see his smirk, want to hear his laugh, the low rumble that makes me giddy inside. I want to feel his hands on my body. But not right now. I'm too confused. The words of that horrible girl in the bar bathroom keep swirling through my head, how she made clear something I suspected for a long time: that I am only one in a very long line of girls that Julian's messed around with. And even though Julian and I aren't officially going out, it still hurts. A jolt of fear overtakes me when I realize that the best solution might just be to break it off. And the easiest way to do that is to ignore him completely.

  I don't hear from Julian all day Saturday, and I ignore Vanessa's text and calls. On Sunday night, I finally pick up when she calls, mostly because I think if I ignore her, her suspicions will be confirmed, that there's something going on with me and Julian.

  "You OK, Lia?" she asks, her voice filled with concern.

  "Yeah, I'm fine," I lie.

  "What happened Friday night? We were so worried!"

  "I didn't feel well. I just needed some fresh air, and once I was outside, I decided to go home. I'm sorry. I should have told you I was leaving."

  "Uh, yeah!"

  "I'm really sorry." I am.

  "What's going on, Lia. For real, what's going on?"

  "Nothing, Vanessa. Seriously."

  "I hear you saying the words, but I don't believe you. No offense," she says with laugh.

  "Thanks." I laugh too. "Seriously? I'm fine. Just got a lot on my mind."

  "Okaaay." Her drawn out response shows her obvious doubt about my truthfulness. Thankfully she changes the subject. "So what are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

  "Oh, I'm flying home to Chicago. I'm leaving Wednesday morning. I'm excited to see my parents," I say, which really is true, even if it sounds a little dorky. I miss them, and it will be nice to hang out at home where I can relax without worrying about Greer or Julian or, even, Vanessa. "What about you?"

  "Julian and I are going home too. You know we only live like three hours away, right? Anyway, I'm skipping Tuesday classes and leaving tomorrow night. I'm driving back with a friend of mine who lives near us. Julian's driving our car home Wednesday, I think. Something like that."

  "That sounds great." My response is so canned, but it's hard not to think about how before Friday night, I'd have been thrilled to know that Julian had their apartment to himself for two days. That we could spend time together without worrying about Vanessa coming home and finding us alone together. I push the thoughts away and attempt to clear my head. Things are different now. Julian's not the one for me. Or I'm not the one for him. Either way, it has to end.

  "My high school boyfriend?" she says. "He's been calling a lot lately, and he wants to get together when I'm home."

  "Oh my god, Vanessa. Are you excited? Or nervous?"

  "I don't know how to feel. I mean, I was the one who broke it off when we both went to different colleges. But now? We're both almost done with college, and we've both changed. And instead of growing apart? I sort of feel like we've got more in common now. It's weird. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel."

  "I don't think you're ever supposed to feel anything," I respond. "Feelings aren't something we control, right?"

  "You're right," she says with a sigh. "I guess I'll just see how it goes. Without too many expectations."

  I want to tell her I know exactly what she means by that, but I can't, obviously.

  "Let me know what happens," I say. "You can call me over break if you need to talk."

  "Thanks, Lia. Have a great Thanksgiving."

  "You too." When I hang up, I feel slightly better about my friendship with her, but still guilty. And I'm sad about Julian. The truth is that I miss him a lot, even though I don't want to.

  Chapter Eight

  Monday morning I drag myself to calculus class and suffer through an hour of understanding nothing. My mind won't focus, continually going back to Julian and my messed up nonexistent relationship with him. After class, I hurry back to my dorm room, eager to take off my shoes and get under the covers, maybe watch some crappy show on Netflix. I unlock my door with a sigh of relief, only to find Julian sitting on my bed, his back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him casually.

  "What's up?" he asks, as if it isn't completely strange to find him sitting in my room waiting for me.

  "What are you doing here? How'd you get in?"

  "Your roommate let me in."

  "Greer?" I ask, although she's the only roommate I have.

  "I guess. You know? I think she likes me. It wasn't hard to convince her to let me wait for you at all." That smirk. It's both infuriating and the sexiest thing I've ever seen.

  I roll my eyes. Because that's the problem, isn't it? That girls practically fall at Julian's feet? There's no way I can hope to compete with that, and I don't even want to try. And then there's the additional issue of Vanessa. It's too much for me.

  "You know, Lia," he says. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding me."

  I don't know what to say. I am avoiding him, but I don't really want to explain why. What would I say? That I'm jealous of all the other girls he's slept with and all the girls he hasn't yet slept with but will? It doesn't even really make sense. Instead I shrug.

  "I think you're over-analyzing things," I say. "I've been busy."

  "Lia. You've never been too busy for our . . . lessons."

  But that's the thing. I am so totally hot for him, and I love our lessons. Yet if that's all we have, if our entire relationship can be reduced to learning sessions in the bedroom, maybe it's time for me to admit, at least to myself, that I want something more.

  "Look, Julian," I say. "I've been busy, OK? And I guess . . . I'm not sure . . . "

  "What's wrong?" The playfulness leaves his face instantly, and I can tell he knows this just got serious.

  "Nothing." I sigh. "Our lessons have been great. Like, really great. But I just need some time."

  "For what?" He seems almost mad, and I suppose he isn't accustomed to being told someone's lost interest in him. Even if it's a lie.

  "Just, I don't know, to think about things?"

  "Lia, I thought we were cool. I thought we were having a good time."

  "See, that's the thing, Julian. It was a good time. All of it."

  "Was?"

  "I'm sorry. I just . . . I can't . . . " Tears are burning my eyes, but I blink quickly to keep them at bay. I don't want to cry now, not in front of Julian. I just want this to be over as quickly as possible, even if that's also the last thing in the world that I want.

  He gets up off the bed, walks to me and looks into my eyes. His finger traces my jaw down to my chin so gently. He's about to say something when we hear Greer laughing outs
ide the door, her exuberant voice saying goodbye to someone. She'll be in the room in a second.

  "Lia, give me a chance, OK? Come over tomorrow night. I'll text you when Vanessa leaves. We'll be alone, and we can talk. Please?"

  I've never heard him sound desperate like this, never heard him speak so earnestly. "Fine," I whisper, though I'm not at all sure I'll actually show up. "Text me."

  "See you," he says, and he's out the door the second Greer opens it.

  ***

  All day I pretend to waffle back and forth about seeing Julian, but I know the truth the entire time: I can't stay away from him. Greer leaves early to go home for Thanksgiving, and I hang out in my dorm room, wishing time would pass more quickly. My primary emotion is still confusion—about our situation, about what will happen—but I also can't stop thinking about all the things we've done together. The sunrise, with all the glorious colors. How he brought my favorite pie. I remember the vibrator in the car and shiver, the image of his face when I came refusing to leave my mind. How is it possible for one person to be so sexy? And how is it possible that, in such a short period of time, he's become all that I think about?

  The day is interminably slow, but finally, at eight that night, he texts. Come over now, Lia.

  I glance in the mirror at my pink cheeks and breathe out. I know that whatever happens tonight will be big, though I'm not sure exactly how.

  When I get to Julian's front door and knock, he opens it right away as though he's been waiting for me. My heart beat picks up when I think about that, about him having as much anticipation of seeing me as I had of seeing him.

  "Lia," he says, "don't laugh." His hoodie is, as usual, pulled up on his head, and he grins at me, his perfect half-mischievous and half-sexy smile.

  "What?"

  "I didn't have time for something less cliché." He opens the door, and I can't help giggling. He's lit candles all over the room, most of them stuck into old beer bottles. A few are melted onto paper plates. Not a fire hazard at all. He has music playing low, something by Muse or some other totally not romantic band, but the relentless beat is hot in a weird way.

  "This is . . . nice," I say and grin up at him.

  "Nice? That's what someone says when they don't have anything, well, nice to say."

  I laugh. "No, seriously. It's different." I walk into the living room and slide my jacket off, then sling it over the back of a chair.

  "Different from what?"

  "From the way we usually do things." I realize too late that it sounds a lot like criticism, or makes me seem too needy.

  "Ahhh." He pushes his hood off and runs his hand through his hair as he steps toward me and looks me in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Lia."

  "No." I put up a hand to stop him. "It's fine. We have . . . It is what it is, you know?"

  "It's not, though." His eyes stare into mine, and he takes my hand gently in his.

  "What's not? What are we even talking about?" I laugh, trying to make a joke and lighten the mood, but he doesn't even smile. My heart’s pounding so hard, and I feel dizzy.

  "Sit." He gestures at the couch. He sits next to me, but not as close as I wish he would. I want to feel his body, the heat from him against me, but we're at least a foot apart. "Listen. Lia, things between us . . . I feel like we started something, and it's been fun.”

  Disappointment crashes over me, but I manage to speak. “Yeah. Fun. It’s been a lot of fun.”

  He reaches across the distance between us, his index finger gently tracing the line of my jaw. “But things have changed, haven't they?"

  "What do you mean?" I can barely get the words out. He's either going to break things off with me completely or ask for something more, and both possibilities are utterly terrifying.

  "We agreed not to see other people while we were having our lessons, right?”

  I nod stiffly, the unknown in this situation making me so tense I can barely move.

  “The thing is,” he continues, “I don't do that. I don't get jealous. But with you? From the beginning it's made me crazy to imagine you with anyone else. That night when you were with that stupid kid at the party down the street? I could have killed him. And it took all my self control not to beat the shit out of Pete for hitting on you at the party here. And he wasn't even doing anything."

  I just stare at him, letting him talk, letting his words sink in. My heart is pounding out of control.

  "I think I need to admit that I have . . . that I like spending time with you aside from our lessons."

  "So . . . What are you saying?" I can barely speak.

  "I don't know." But a grin plays on his lips, his hand running through his hair again as his gorgeous green eyes meet mine. "Maybe we could go out some time."

  "Are you . . . asking me on a date?"

  "Depends. Would you say yes?" He winks at me, and I can't keep my eyes off his lips, the way they curl up in a grin.

  "Um, yes?"

  "Then I'm asking."

  "So, OK? Where are you going to take me?"

  "Our last outing was pretty fun," he says playfully, and I blush. "Look," he continues, "I really like you, Lia. I never say that to girls. But you . . . you're different."

  "How?" I genuinely want to know. It's hard for me to understand what he sees in me that he doesn't see in the leggy blond from the bar, or in any of the other gorgeous girls who check him out everywhere he goes.

  "I can't believe you even need to ask," he says softly, and my breath picks up. "You're sexy, Lia, because you don't try to be. And you're smart. Sarcastic. Funny."

  I smile at him. "It's my literary trivia knowledge, isn't it?"

  "Your intelligence is fucking hot," he says, his lips gliding gently over mine, moving down to gently kiss my neck like a whisper.

  I shiver at the touch, so light. Too light. I want more.

  "So, will you go out with me after break?" he asks, pulling back slightly to gaze into my eyes.

  "I will," I say. Then, "Wait. What about Vanessa?" My excitement fades as I remember his sister and the lies I've told her.

  "I'll talk to her over break, OK?"

  "I guess." But I'm really unsure. I can't forget Vanessa's hatred of girls who use her to get to her brother, and how, just the other night, I insisted to her in the bar that there's nothing going on between Julian and me. She'll know that I lied. Will she be able to forgive me?

  "It's going to be OK," he says, scooting closer to me. He puts his hand behind my neck and pulls me close so that we're almost kissing. Almost, but not quite. "Tell me," he says in a low voice, "that you haven't thought about what I did to you in the car after Pleasure Place? And what it feels like when I touch you? Tell me you never think about me."

  "All the time." I murmur that truth as he unbuttons my jeans, then slowly pulls the zipper down. His hand slides down into my panties, lower until he finds my clit, and he slowly touches it, so lightly that I squirm against him.

  He lets out a laugh that's half growl, then dips a finger into my already-wet opening.

  "Oh," I moan.

  "Yeah?"

  "Yes," I manage. He's moving his finger in and out slowly, touching my clit with his thumb, and I feel like I'm going to come any second.

  "Lia," he whispers, "I can't stop thinking about being inside of you."

  "Then what are you waiting for?"

  "I like you, Lia," he says, his fingers continuing to move, my body so helpless under his touch. "I'm afraid I'll hurt you."

  "It's supposed to hurt the first time," I mutter, and he lets out a soft groan.

  "I didn't mean physically." He draws his fingers, sopping wet, up against my stomach.

  "I'll be fine."

  He pushes my jeans and underwear down, and I stand so he can pull them off all the way. He reaches into his jeans pocket, pulls out a foil wrapped condom and sets it onto the coffee table. He says nothing, just stares at me intently as I pull my shirt off over my head and take off my bra. Naked, I sit on the couch.

&nb
sp; "Your turn," I say.

  "If you want them off, you'll have to take them off." His smile is teasing, but his eyes are full of desire, begging me to touch him. Slowly, I unzip his sweatshirt. When he shrugs out of it, I toss it on the chair where I put my coat. Underneath it he's wearing a tight black T-shirt, and I run my hand under it, feeling his lean and hard stomach and chest, before pulling it up until he slips it over his head and throws it on the floor. I straddle him, feeling his hardness between my legs. He put his hands on my hips and pushed me down as I press up hard against him. "Oh baby," he mutters. "Fuck, Lia. I am so hard right now."

  "I can feel you," I whisper. He grinds against me gently, and I can tell he's holding back, so I move too, the erection through his jeans rubbing my clit. I feel like I'm going to come any second. "I think I'm getting your jeans wet," I murmur, and he breathes out hard, then pulls my head down to kiss me on the lips. His tongue is so demanding, the kiss taking my breath away.

  Finally I break away from the kiss, then slide off of him so I'm kneeling before him, my eyes holding his the whole time. I undo the button and zipper on his jeans, loving the way his breathing gets harder as he watches me undressing him. He raises his hips so I can take off his jeans and underwear, and I keep my eyes on his as I move forward and bend down to lick his cock. I can feel him straining in desire, can feel him grow even harder as my tongue travels from the base all the way to the tip.

  "God, Lia," he mutters. "You need to stop. I'm going to come so fast like this."

  "Don't you want to come?"

  He moans, "Fuck. Yes. But tonight? I want to fuck you, Lia. I want to be inside you."

  "Oh."

  "I'm so hard, but I need to make sure you're ready for me."

  "I'm ready," I whisper, getting up and sitting on the couch next to him.

  "Not yet." Now he kneels in front of me. "Lean back," he says. "Slide your butt to the edge of the couch, and put your feet up."

  Oh. If I do that, I'll be completely open and exposed, spread so wide in front of him. Tentatively, I bring my knees up but keep them closed, my feet in front of me.

  "Open your legs, Lia."